A soft hiss left the coloured liquid, bubbles rising where the potion meets the glass. Caitlyn’s gloved hand gently places the pipette back into a holder, before she mixes the solution with a glass rod.

“…Alright, that’ll be enough.” Her soft voice breaks over the crackling of the liquid, relieving the room of its tension. You sigh, smoothing out your lab coat before Caitlyn continues.

“We’ll leave that to settle for a while, and then we can test it on a small community of bacteria.” She commands, leaving little room for negotiation. But, to be fair, she knew her stuff when it came to alchemy.

The golden hour of Piltover has settled in, bathing the clinical, almost sterile laboratory a soft, golden hue.

Of course, Caitlyn only sees the black and white of the situation. “We’re losing light.”

She huffs, lifting her safety glasses.

“We can continue this tomorrow, unless you’re wildly eager.”